Den of Thieves Read Free Page A

played marbles with the boys. Later, I climbed the apple trees with him when we went scrumping in the Reverend James’s orchard and fled on his heels when we were spotted. Even then, he’d taken the punishment for me, saying it was his fault for leading me astray. I knew that he’d always been able to take care of himself and the others under his protection. It was only recently that I had come to appreciate that he was also sharper than he looked: a gentle, slow manner disguised an astute grasp of street politics. I was going to miss him.
    â€˜So, when are you leaving?’
    â€˜Monday. I’m puttin’ Nick in charge of the boys. I won’t let Billy Shepherd get on to my patch while I’m out of the way, don’t you worry.’ He stopped bouncing about and gave me a stern look.‘You not ’eard from ’im again, ’ave you, Cat?’
    I shook my head, shivering as if the day had suddenly turned cold. Billy ‘Boil’ Shepherd, gang leader of the Rookeries mob, had both tried to kill me and saved my life in the last eighteen months. I wasn’t eager to find out what else he had in store for me on our next encounter. But still hanging over me was the little matter of my promise to Billy, made when trying to stop Pedro being kidnapped by his old slave master. I hadn’t heard anything more about this since that cold winter night on the Thames when I had given my word that I’d repay the debt I owed Billy. I had started to hope that he’d forgotten.
    â€˜No, I think he must’ve lost interest in me.’
    â€˜Good.’ Syd gave me a hand up from my seat. ‘Glad to ’ear it, Cat. ’E’s not stopped ’is nasty ’abit of dumpin’ his enemies in the river with rocks tied to their ankles. Very best thing a girl like you can do with a lad like that is keep well out of ’is way.’ The clock of a nearby church struck the hour. ‘You’d better be off. I’ve made you late, ’aven’t I?’
    â€˜Don’t worry about that. I’m pleased you let meknow your plans yourself.’ I waved farewell as I walked briskly off towards the market.
    I hardly noticed the streets separating Covent Garden from St James as I pondered the news. Syd leaving home? That didn’t feel right – how would he manage away from his friends? And – a selfish thought slid into my mind – why did he have to go now? Just when I needed him more than ever.
    A cool breeze found its way across Hyde Park to Grosvenor Square, fluttering the gold tassels of the canopy stretched over our heads. Lady Elizabeth and I were reclining in chairs, raspberry sherbets in hand, enjoying the shade of the oriental booth erected in the garden in the middle of the square. Her chestnut hair was plaited in a fashionable Grecian style, caught high off her neck, and she was dressed in a beautiful lightweight pale blue gown. Tiny navy slippers decorated with seed pearls peeped out from under the hem. If I’d met Hercules outside the Butcher’s shop earlier, it wasn’t hard to imagine that I was now lying beside Helen of Troy. Out in the noonday sunshine, LordFrancis and Pedro were playing a very competitive game of Pall Mall. Lulled by the regular ‘clockclock’ of mallet striking balls, I had begun to doze off when a row erupted.
    â€˜That ball went through!’ protested Lord Francis.
    â€˜Didn’t,’ challenged Pedro. My African friend tilted his head defiantly up at his lordship. Frank had sprouted several inches during the spring and, unless you knew him well, struck an imposing figure with his shock of curly dark hair.
    â€˜Did!’
    â€˜Did not . . . my lord,’ said Pedro archly, bowing low.
    â€˜Did, you . . . you musical dandy!’
    Pedro grinned, brushing off his impeccable yellow and blue livery. ‘Did not, you sartorial disgrace to the name of Avon.’ Frank’s shirt was